


The Growing Silence

by Zekebum



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Birdflash - Freeform, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Everyone Is Gay, How Do I Tag, Hurt Dick Grayson, M/M, Protective Bruce Wayne, SuperBat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:17:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11057835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekebum/pseuds/Zekebum
Summary: Dick gets in an accident while helping Bruce out on a mission - for old times' sakes.Wally decides to visit.Clark also decides to visit.What could go wrong?Hint: The answer is everything.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a cold night in the city of Gotham, a harsh, freezing wind blowing from the south. There were signs of a storm soon, as huge cumulonimbus clouds gathered, blocking out some - if not all - of the moonlight. Street lights and city buildings lit up the town, though, and it was very beautiful. Yes, Gotham was a beautiful city indeed, but it'd be even better if the crime rates weren't so high.

Speaking of crime rates.

Nightwing sighed heavily, already hearing police sirens off in the distance - probably to catch a robber. He would've gone and done the job himself, but his used-to-be mentor wanted him to come by as soon as possible. So, he did. He left his own city and was in Gotham in about thirty minutes. 

He quickly made his way to his destination, quietly vaulting and jumping from rooftop to rooftop to get there.

He landed softly on the ground, slowly standing up straight before he walked up to the Wayne manor's doors. He lightly knocked on the door, a secret way of knocking so people knew it was him. Almost like morse code.

Almost.

Alfred was at the door almost immediately, as if expecting his arrival. Which, Nightwing wasn't surprised; Batman told Alfred almost everything.

Again, almost.

The old man gave a small smile, and a short but polite nod.

"It's good to see you, Master Dick," He welcomed, bowing slightly. "Master Bruce is... well, you know where he is," He said, chuckling softly. 

The younger gave a small laugh as well.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's good to see you too," He said, before he waved him off, heading down to the Batcave. 

When he got down there, he was greeted by Batman himself. 

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," he started, briskly walking back over to his giant computer system, typing in a few codes and keys. These sets of seemingly random buttons opened up a file, on the recent mystery behind Joker's latest scheme. Nightwing was puzzled; why did Batman need his help on a seemingly normal Joker case? Said man cocked a brow, showing his confusion. 

Batman turned on his heels to face his former protégé, a tired look on his face. 

"For once, it seems like Joker's got me stumped," he said, turning back to the computer as he scrolled through the files, "I mean, he's got a new type of bomb made, but it's only been used once - only for his escape from Arkham. Then, he released the other patients to cover his tracks - quite literally. No footprints or fingerprints of any kind were at the crime scene, but Joker's missing. After that, he had taken an investigator hostage, and held them hostage for a few hours, before letting them go. He then promptly attempted to release all the animals from a nearby shelter, but couldn't pick the lock or hack the systems." He said in an almost rant-type tone, pacing as he did so. 

He then slammed his fist on a desk, making Nightwing flinch at the sound that followed. 

"It just doesn't make any sense," He said curtly, making the silent room have a suddenly heavy atmosphere.

Both men stood in complete silence, both thinking intensely.

"Maybe..." The younger started, "Maybe he's just trying to get your attention?" He carefully finished.

The room was silent once more, until Batman slumped down in his chair and slammed his head on his desk. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He mumbled, and Nightwing couldn't tell what he was upset about. 

"... It was that simple?"

Oh, the protégé thought, he's upset because I noticed it when he didn't.

There was a loud sigh coming from the hunched over figure at the desk, before he stood up and walked back over to where Nightwing was.

"Well, since he's - apparently - just looking for attention," He started, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "The next question is: why?"

Now Dick was the one that was confused. 

"I don't know, has Joker had any reasons to get your attention in the past?" He asked, the tone of his voice reflecting his confusion.

They were both silent for a moment, trying to think of possible reasons why Joker would be doing what he was doing. 

"Pardon me, but perhaps I can shed some light on the situation?" A voice suddenly said, making even Batman jump in surprise. They were both so caught up in their thoughts that neither of them noticed Alfred walk into the Batcave with a tray of tea. 

Nightwing chuckled a bit. 

"Sure. What'cha got, Alfred?"

The old butler tentatively set the tray down, walking over to the other two men - of whom were both taller than he was. He gave a slight bow, being courteous.

"From what I can remember in the past, Joker has done these wild stunts to get your attention, only for his own personal reasons. For instance, the last time he did it was to test out a new weapon he had created." He explained briskly, before he gave a small sigh. 

"I only have a hunch that this can't be good." 

Batman uncrossed his arms and nodded a bit to himself, walking over to his computer and sitting back in the chair. 

"If he is trying to test out a weapon, then the tracker I have should be able to pinpoint where it is." He said gruffly, turning the swivel chair to face the other two. 

"It can pick up traces of radiation, heat waves, certain gases, excetera. Once it picks up anything like that, it'll be able to pick out its coordinates and we'll be able to avoid it."

Nightwing raised a brow. 

"'We'?" He repeated, looking dumbfounded as he looked at his father figure through icy blue eyes. 

The man smirked a bit, nodding his head to the question. 

"Yeah, we. We're going to find out where Joker currently is, and we're going to get some answers–" 

"–Straight from the horses' mouth." Alfred finished, picking his tray of tea back up from the table he set it on. 

Nightwing snickered a bit, waving the old man off as he left the large, dark cave. He then placed his hands on his hips, looking over to Batman. 

"So, where's the last place Joker was reported being seen at?" He asked, sitting down in a chair across from his old mentor.

"Arkham, but that was a week ago. There's no telling where he is now."

The younger nodded a bit, humming to himself as he thought. 

"Didn't you put a tracker on one of his tailcoats? I would think there's a chance that he might be wearing it," He asked, to which was responded with a delighted sigh. 

"Of course, I forgot I had one," Batman muttered under his breath as he pulled up different files and pages on his computer, until a map of Gotham showed up, a red dot glowing off in the corner.

"... The hell is he doing at the docks?" Nightwing said, a bit surprised, actually. His father-figure shrugged. 

"No idea, but now we know where he's bound to be," He said, standing up from his chair. He put a hand on his son's shoulder, a small smile on his face. 

"What do you say, son? Old times' sakes?" Batman asked, looking a bit hopeful. 

Nightwing grinned in return, nodding a bit. 

"Yeah, dad. Old times' sakes."

"Good. Then let's go catch ourselves a wild card."


	2. Chapter 2

Nightwing tapped his foot impatiently, glaring behind him as he waited for Batman to catch up. 

He had forgotten how much of a slowpokey-perfectionist he was when it came to stealth.

After a few moments, Batman approached, crouching down behind a shipping crate, Nightwing leaning on it with his arms crossed over his chest. 

"What took you so long?" He mused, earning a harsh shush from the Dark Knight. 

"We still don't know exactly what he's planning, we have to take this seriously, and with caution," He warned quietly, "We don't know where exactly he is yet." The former Boy Wonder blew a raspberry in reponse, leaning back against the crate, his back popping as he stretched it out. 

"You're no fun," He mumbled, propping his chin up on his fist. 

Batman remained silent, watching on as he cautiously scanned the area with his weapons' tracker. 

"There's no weapons here," He said in a soft, monotone voice. Y'know, the usual Batman voice. Just not as scary or threatening.

"Well, that's a good thing, right?"

"Not necessarily. He could be planning something else, something bigger."

"Yeah, well, that guy's a real nut-job, I don't think he has much of a plan," Nightwing replied. 

"Joker's smarter than you may think he is," He pointed out, shifting to face Nightwing, "We still have to exercise extreme caution, he's a dangerous criminal–" The Dark Knight was interrupted by Nightwing blowing another raspberry.

"Pops, you're gonna make me go deaf with all this dangerous criminal talk, I've heard it all before. I'm just messing around," The younger said, just as the sound of hysterical laughter made its cue. 

Nightwing smirked a bit. 

"Speak of the devil."

And just as he said that, the Joker made himself visible, still laughing his sick head off the whole time. 

His green hair cascaded around his pale, white face as he hung upside down off of a nearby pole. He brought his arms around himself, doing his best impression of the infamous bat-glare.

"I'm Batman," He mocked in a low, gruff tone.

He promptly began laughing once more, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. 

"Lookie who we have here, if it isn't ol' Batsy!" He then pointed to Nightwing. 

"And his little birdie, too! Well, one of them anyway, but you know what they say: "three's a crowd"!"

Nightwing rolled his eyes a bit. 

"Man, seems like this guy's even more of a nut than I remember," He muttered. 

"Hm, come closer, dear!" Joker said, dropping down from the pole and standing upright.

"I need to get a better look at'cha, you've grown so much since the last time we saw each other!" He continued, smiling wickedly, a dangerous glint in his dark eyes.Nightwing held his ground, knowing well from past experiences not to back down from a threat. 

Batman, however, advanced towards Joker, and he grabbed him by the shirt. He had him off the ground in a second, holding him up by the front of the madman's suit. Said madman just kept on smiling, making the whole situation all the more unsettling.

"What are you up to?" The Dark Knight growled. Joker giggled some, but the sound was not at all pleasing to the ear. 

"So, a man walks into a bar–"

"I don't have time for this!"

"Batman, I don't think this is how we should be going about doing this-"

"–And he says "Ouch"!" He started cackling, and Batman's grip on his vest tightened, and he rose him up higher up off the ground.

"What are you planning, Joker?" He demanded, his voice laced with the anger he was trying to hold back. 

He laughed some more. 

"Oh, now my dear Batsy, why would I tell you that?" He asked, sticking his bottom lip out in a slight pout.

"It's no fun, you know; having the plans you worked so hard on failing. All because the one you hate the most demanded to know them."

The smile was gone at this point, replaced with a deep, dark, menacing stare; one that nearly put the bat-glare to shame. 

Nightwing couldn't help the pang of fear that shot through his system, but he had to shove it aside. 

No time to be afraid now, Grayson. He told himself. 

"Oh! By the way," Joker's smile returned now, wider and even more fear-striking than before. 

"Watch your step."

And not even a millisecond after Joker had said that, bright green lights lit up all around Gotham City. Every single one of them formed a question mark. 

"Shit..." Batman muttered, looking around, trying to locate the source of the sound, and the madman took his hesitance as an opportunity to strike. 

He shook himself loose from the Dark Knight's iron grip, and he delivered a harsh kick to his side, before he leapt back up to the pole he was on earlier. 

Joker let out a hideous cackle, and his own laughter was followed by another man's laughter. Though, it was softer than Joker's, and more mysterious – instead of crazed and all over the place. 

And even though it wasn't too much different than the average villains' laugh, it was still easily recognizable.

This laughter belonged to none other than the Riddler. 

Nightwing was at Batman's side in an instant, both of them looking around wildly to see where the Riddler was. 

Joker stifled his laughter as he stood up on the pole with perfect balance. 

"I know what you're both thinking. You're thinking: "Wow, what a pickle we're in!" But don't worry, this'll only take a second," He said, and suddenly the Riddler appeared out of the shadows, tossing and twirling his cane between his hands. 

He chuckled a bit as well.

"Oh, this'll be very fun for the both of us," Riddler hummed, his voice having a bit of an accent. Though, no one could really tell what the accent was. 

His short, brown hair rustled in the wind from under his hat, a storm brewing as the aforementioned wind picked up speed. He tipped his hat, faking politeness at the duo. 

"Riddle me this, gentlemen," he started, standing up straight. A flash of lightning lit up his face, and made the Joker appear very ghost-like. Thunder crackled and boomed right afterwards, and little droplets of rain began to fall. He pointed his cane between the two, a sickening smirk on his face as the wind and rain picked up.

"If a tree falls in the woods," Joker both hopped down from the pole, advancing towards Batman and Nightwing, his fists raised almost comically.

"... Does it make a sound?"

Nightwing let out a grunt of pain when the end of Riddler's cane had suddenly connected with the side of his skull, and he became disoriented. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, and he went to strike at him with a baton, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The storm had finally begun, booming thunder and bright, white lightning making appearances almost every two minutes. The rain pelted down on him, making his dark hair stick to his forehead. 

Joker's crazed laughter could be heard once more, and Batman had cut it off by punching him square in the jaw. A nice left hook, if you'd prefer to call it that.

Riddler made his own appearance once again, going to use his cane as a weapon for a second time. 

But this time, Nightwing was ready. 

He blocked it with his own baton, the two dueling it out as if they were fencing. Except, not with swords. 

Riddler snickered a bit, retracting his staff up above his head. 

"You've gotten better, kid," He said, the younger lunging at him. 

The skinny man had dodged the attack, kicking him in the back as he did so. 

Nightwing fell to the ground with a soft thud, and he had just enough time to lean to the side to narrowly avoid being stabbed with the end of Riddler's cane. 

Batman kept punching and kicking at Joker, and the madman was starting to pick up on his fighting pattern, so he was beginning to dodge the attacks. He rubbed his temples with his hands as he avoided the offense, a wicked grin on his face - as per usual. 

He then laughed rather loudly, clutching his sides as he did so. 

"I like to call this one: "The Killing Joke"!" He said between his fits of laughter. He jumped up and kicked Batman in the cheek, making the Dark Knight fall to the ground. He landed on top of him, and this kept the other man on the ground.

He was heavier than he looked.

And, little did the former Dynamic Duo know, that he did indeed have a plan. 

A dirty, rotten, devious plan.

He held a button behind his back, laughing as Batman squirmed and writhed to try to throw him off. 

"So, Batsy! Why did the chicken cross the road?"

Nightwing was being backed up into a corner by the Riddler – though he didn't know he was. 

But, this was all part of the plan. 

"You're a smart guy, Nightwing," The green-clad man started, smirking widely with sick glee.

"So tell me..."

"To get to the ugly bat's house!" Joker laughed a bit more. 

"Knock knock." He said, and when he received no answer, he pouted. 

"Awe, c'mon Batsy! It's no fun when you don't play along!" He had his foot pressing down on Batman's cheek now, which was pushing his face into the concrete. He growled softly. 

"... Who's there?"

"... Why is a raven, like a writing desk?"

"The chicken!" Joker began to let out the evilest cackle in all his life as he pressed the button he had been holding. 

Riddler had jumped out of the way and to safety, just before a bomb that was hidden underground exploded in a bright frenzy of yellow, white, and green smoke and flames. 

Right where Nightwing was standing.


	3. Chapter 3

_Riddler had jumped out of the way and to safety, just before a bomb that was hidden underground exploded in a bright frenzy of yellow, white, and green smoke and flames._

_Right where Nightwing was standing._

\----------------

There was a huge explosion, and Batman coughed and struggled to not inhale the smoke that followed suit. 

Joker was cackling his sick head off, and after most of the commotion had died down, he finally got off of the Caped Crusader. 

Batman tried desperately to scramble to his feet, to help his son, but Joker had a foot pressed down firmly on the end of his cape, still rendering all of his attempts useless. He shook his head, green hair falling into his face as he made a _tsk tsk_ sound. 

"Not yet, Batsy,~" He said in a hushed, sing-song voice. It was eerily quiet, aside from Joker's giggling and talking. 

"Eddie, be a dear and bring the boy over here, I wanna see what's left of him," He licked his chapped red lips and laughed, a smile stretching wide across his pale face.

Riddler chuckled a little as well, and he appeared out of the massive plumes of smoke, dragging a very-much-unconscious Nightwing across the pavement. Blood was marking their trail as the limp body was dragged forward and brought up to the Joker.

Said man smiled even wider and patted the Riddler's head.

"Good, good! You're definitely more helpful to me than, ahem, someone _else_ I know."

"Are you referring to that little blonde bimbo who's always hanging off your shoulder–"

Joker ceased his petting at that, and interrupted Riddler by thumping him on the forehead, glaring at him with a deep frown.

"Don't talk about Harley like that, she tries!" He snapped, before he sighed a bit, "But, yes, that's exactly who I'm referring to."

He then put a pale hand around Nightwing's neck, checking for a pulse. 

Batman had started to struggle again underneath him - wondering why this was suddenly so _hard_ to do - but Joker didn't much care for it anymore.

He stayed perfectly still for a solid minute before he felt a slight pulse beneath his index finger. 

"Oh, looks like the little bugger is still alive," He flat out dropped the young man with a disappointed sigh, his body falling to the ground with a sickening smack. 

But, the wide smile returned, and he lifted his foot from the Bat's cape, the Riddler immediately dashing over and keeping the man down as he tried to stand, as if the two had rehearsed this over and over again.

Joker circled the scene, a wicked smile playing on his cherry red lips as a laugh rumbled out from his chest. 

"Now, you know, Batsy, you know what this reminds me of?" He asked, and when he received no answer, he just giggled again. 

"Well, let me paint you a mental picture!" Joker paused to think, brushing some of his now sopping wet green hair out of his eyes. 

"Hmm, let's see," He put a finger to his lips. 

"Lil' ol' me, a rusty crowbar, an abandoned factory," A wide and malicious smile, filled with insanity crawled upon his face before he continued in a deep, dark, menacing tone. "A little birdie... Any of this ringin' a bell to you, darling?"

"Shut up," Batman growled as he struggled to free himself. Although, Riddler wasn't nearly as strong as Joker, so it wasn't too hard. 

"Aww, am I making the little Batsy-baby upset?" Joker teased with a giggle, before he bent down to get face to face with Batman. 

"Good." 

"Shut up!" 

There was a loud crack as Batman head butted the infamous Clown Prince of Crime, knocking the thin man backwards. 

The Riddler yelped in surprise, and this caused Batman to he able to knock him back and off of him.

The Dark Knight had grabbed his son and left the scene before either villain could even register it. 

\---------------

Dick tried to pry open his eyes against the blinding white light of the hospital – wait, hospital?

He forced himself to open his eyes as he attempted to sit up in the bed he was in. His whole body ached, and there was loud, annoying, high-pitched ringing in his ears. His head throbbed with the intensity of a thousand beating bass drums. 

There were IV needles in his arms, and he followed the thin tubing up to the different types of bags hanging there. He couldn't tell what they were, though. He was a hero, not a doctor.

He caught movement in the corner of his eye, but before he could even open his mouth to ask questions, a firm hand was gently pushing him back down onto the bed. 

"You need to rest," Bruce had told his son softly, but Dick continued to stare up at him with the most confused look on his face. 

"What?" He tried to ask, but it came out much, much, louder than expected. It almost made Bruce cringe at the intensity.

Almost. 

Dick was confused – what was Bruce trying to say? He saw his lips move, but he couldn't hear him. 

... Come to think of it, he couldn't even hear himself. 

A slight hysteria began to settle over him, his blue eyes widening as the realization hit. His breath started to quicken, and his chest heaved with each breath. 

No, _no no no no_ **_no no no no_**!

Bruce must've sensed Dick's oncoming panic, because he was over at his side in the blink of an eye, firmly grasping a hand in both of his own, as a means to ground him. He was rubbing Dick's knuckles with his thumbs, and his heart broke in two when he saw fat tears begin rolling down his cheeks.

"Hey, Dick, it's okay, shh, it's okay," Bruce tried to soothe, knowing it probably wouldn't work because Dick couldn't hear him. He held Dick's hand against his forehead, willing the tears prickling behind his own eyelids to go away. 

He couldn't cry. 

He _wouldn't_ cry.

He had to be strong. 

For Dick.

Dick couldn't hear his own cries – full of anguish – but Bruce could.

And it destroyed him inside. 

The younger was shaking now, the harsh sobs making his chest and body hurt even more than it already had been, which caused him to shiver even more.

Bruce wrapped his other arm around his shoulders, bringing him close as possible, making sure not to tangle up the IV's that were stuck in his arm. Dick responded by burying his face in the crook of Bruce's neck, hot tears still streaming down his face.

"B-Bruce," Dick struggled through the tears, his voice just barely above a whisper. He hoped he was saying the right words.

"Yes, son?" Bruce replied just as softly, his voice cracking slightly despite his best efforts to keep it level.

It was a while before Dick tried to speak again, and for whatever reasons, Bruce probably knew.

He couldn't have known that he even responded to him – hell, Bruce guessed that Dick probably didn't even know he had called out for him.

That thought made his heart ache even more, and he pushed it to the back of his mind.

"Why can't I h-hear you?" Dick cried, clutching the back of his father's shirt like it was a lifeline.

Bruce began rubbing soothing circles on his back, knowing that there wasn't a point in trying to answer. Not unless he had a paper and pencil. Neither one of them knew sign language, because neither one of them ever saw the point of knowing it. They didn't know they'd ever _need_ to know.

But he tried it anyway, even though he _knew_ his son could no longer hear anything.

"You've gone deaf, Dick, I... I'm sorry."

A horrible thought occurred to Bruce, and suddenly he knew that _this was all his fault_. If he hadn't have called Dick down to help in the first place, none of this would have happened, and Dick would still be able to hear everything, and he wouldn't be having a break down because he lost something he never thought he'd lose.

Dick must've sensed as much, because the next thing Bruce knew, he heard his son whisper:

"Not your fault..."

He decided to not argue with him on that, and instead, continued to rub his back and hold his hand, calming him down as best he could without speaking to him.

After what seemed like an hour, but was only half of that, Dick had cried himself back to sleep.

Bruce gently unwound himself from his son, laying him back down onto the small bed. He watched him for a few moments, making sure he was going to stay asleep, before he left the room to go look for the doctor.

Whom he had run right into.

The doctor – who's ID read 'Doctor Jones' – dropped his clipboard, and Bruce wordlessly picked it up of the tiled floor and offered it to him.

"Ah, pardon me, Mr. Wayne. I didn't see you there," He apologized with a tight smile. "I was just about to check up on Richard."

"Will he ever be able to regain his hearing again?" The words just tumbled out of Bruce's mouth before he could even think about them. 

Doctor Jones looked confused for a moment, before he fully regained his composure.

"It's hard to say. Being that close to a detonating bomb ruptured his eardrums, and that's a very hard thing to try to fix," He explained briskly, no real emotions behind his words.

Bruce just simply nodded, and he pushed past him, making his way down to the hospital cafeteria.

_Maybe I could drown my sadness in cake._

A sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he thought that that sounded exactly like something Dick would say. 


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce was sitting in the hospital cafeteria when Clark and Wally had arrived, but only Clark came down to the cafeteria. Naturally, Wally wanted to be with his best friend, so as soon as the nurses gave him the okay to visit, he took off in the direction of Dick's room, somehow managing to not tap into the speed force as he bolted.

"Hey," Clark's voice sounded as he approached Bruce, sitting down beside him at the table. He had a styrofoam cup in his hand – which was presumably filled with coffee – and he offered it to the other man.

Bruce simply grunted a response and sat there for a while, before he took the offered drink in his slightly smaller hands, just briefly enjoying the warmth seeping through the thin foam into his palms and fingertips.

His hair was messy and unkempt – from running his hands through it so many times – and his clothes were wrinkled beyond belief due to being in them for more than forty-eight hours. And to top it all off, his overall demeanor seemed to scream _frazzled_.

They sat there for a while, with no one saying anything. Clark didn't expect the other to say much, and he didn't mind it. The only noise breaking their silence was the bustling of activity from the other people in the cafeteria.

Bruce gingerly sipped at the coffee in his hands, the liquid tasting of bitter coffee beans – with a hint of sort of how a hospital smelled – and he grimaced. Though, he didn't want to be wasteful – and Clark had gotten it for him – so he continued to drink it, even though it wasn't the best coffee that had ever graced his tongue.

Clark was the first to break their silence, and he lightly bumped – well, more like brushed – Bruce's arm with his elbow.

"Hey, you doing okay?" He asked in a gentle tone; one that made Bruce feel a little bit less like absolute shit.

"Peachy," He hissed, but when he glanced over at the other and the expression on his face, his own gaze softened a bit, and it was as if his whole body deflated. His shoulders slumped, and he let his posture falter a bit - once again glancing at Clark - who had a sympathetic smile on his face.

"No," Bruce sighed softly, setting his half-empty cup of coffee down onto the pristine white table.

"How long have you been brooding down here?" The Man of Steel questioned.

Bruce didn't answer at first, because he legitimately had no idea what time it was after he had briefly talked to Doctor Jones, but he decided he'd take an estimated guess.

"... An hour, maybe two," He finally mumbled, rubbing one of his now free hands over his face.

"Or three..."

"He probably thinks you left," Clark said, not needing to indicate who he was talking about.

For some reason, that made Bruce a little ticked.

"He was asleep when I came down here, Clark, he's probably not even awake yet. He was always a heavy sleeper, and now that he..." His voice grew steadily softer as he trailed off, not even able to bring himself to say it right now.

Clark patiently waited for him to gather himself.

Bruce sighed heavily through his nose.

"... Trying to wake him now will be like trying to wake a corpse," He finally muttered in a blank tone.

"You know it wasn't your fault, right?"

"That's bullshit and you know it, Clark," Bruce suddenly snapped, standing up from his chair and glaring menacingly down at the other man.

"You know damn well that _that_ was entirely my fault! If I hadn't had even asked him for help on something as simple-"

"Bruce," The Man of Steel interrupted calmly and evenly, and despite the urge to continue his bought of self-hatred, the other man stopped ranting.

Clark was staring up at Bruce through his glasses, his gaze as hard as stone. He was still sitting down in the chair, and it didn't take long for the other man to figure out that he was waiting for him to sit back down.

But, he continued standing, and the two were glaring stubborn daggers at each other, neither one of them willing to back down.

Bruce had even crossed his arms over his chest, which meant that he meant business. 

Bruce was frustrated because he _knew_ that it was his fault for what happened to his own son, and he was even more frustrated because he knew that Clark wouldn't let him have the satisfaction to blame himself; just this one time.

Luckily, their standoff had lasted for a few minutes, and it ended when Clark blew out a long, exaggerated sigh - was it a sigh? Maybe it was more like a huff - and he stood up in front of Bruce, looking down at him.

He was taller than him only by a few inches, but it still made a noticeable difference.

"Bruce, none of this is your fault. It's not anybody's fault except for Joker's, and Edward's. If you want someone to blame, blame them, not yourself," Clark said firmly, and he put both of his hands on Bruce's shoulders, as if bracing him for something.

And, in a way, he was; because the next thing the Dark Knight knew, he was being hugged tightly against the other's broad chest.

Bruce tried to shake him off, but Clark only held him tighter, and he eventually gave up and quit squirming; instead just going stiff in his hold.

"There was no way you could've prevented that from happening. What's done is done, the past is in the past, and you need to let go. Just be glad that he's still _alive_ , Bruce, because what happened to him could've ended _so_ much worse." He said softly, trying to make the other man see that his self-hatred over the topic at hand was useless and unnecessary. 

And apparently, it worked, because once the realization of the situation hit Bruce, it hit _hard_.

He did something that Clark was not expecting for him to do - especially not so openly.

He started to cry.

He immediately returned the sort-of forced hug, and his arms were wrapped around the other man, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt between the other's shoulder blades. His whole body turned to putty in Clark's arms, and he had to hold on to him even tighter in order to keep him standing upright.

Bruce - obviously - wasn't normally the kind of person to seek out comfort from other people - especially physical comfort - but in this moment, he felt like he really needed it.

He was a silent crier for the most part, and he had his face pressed into the other man's shoulder, occasionally mumbling things like: "Oh God, Clark, I almost lost him", and "My son, I _can't_ lose another one",

And Clark let him.

Because he knew that underneath the cold, stone-faced facade that Bruce had made for himself, he was an emotional trainwreck.

Clark started to rub soothing circles into the other man's back, letting the side of his head rest against Bruce's, trying to comfort him. 

"Shh, it's okay Bruce, he's okay, everything's okay," He said softly, and he could feel Bruce ever-so-slightly shaking in his hold. 

Bruce could feel Clark's breath against his ear, and he gave a little shiver, not sure if it was from that or the fact that his crying was making him shake. 

Either way, Clark continued to rub his back and say comforting things to him the whole time, and Bruce was grateful for every moment of it.

\----------

If one were to look at the way Dick was acting now, they'd have no idea that he had just lost his sense of hearing. 

In fact, he was handling it rather well, despite his breakdown a few hours earlier. Sure, he still felt like absolute shit, and he was pretty bummed out - and would be for a while - but he thinks he could learn to deal with it.

He had woken up about five minutes before Wally had arrived, but he was happy to see him, nonetheless. 

He was still fairly sore, and he hated the ringing in his ears – but aside from that – he was handling the situation fairly well. 

_Okay, so, remember how last week I was studying really hard for my science final?_ Wally wrote on a piece of lined paper and showed it to Dick. He read it, and nodded. The redhead began writing on it again.

Aside from the fact that Dick would never get to hear his loved ones' voices ever again, he was fine. 

Just fine. 

Wally held up the paper again.

_Well, I bombed it. And not in_ _the good way_ _. It's total bull, too, because I studied really hard on the stuff that was supposed to be on the_ test, _but turns out, none of the stuff I studied was on the test._

Wally was in college now, and he was studying forensics, just like Barry did. He loved all the aspects and types of science, but forensics was the most interesting to him. 

Plus, Barry could help him if he had any questions, so that was a plus.

Dick couldn't help but snicker a little, and he gestured for the clipboard. Wally gave it to him and patiently waited while he wrote. 

_You sure you didn't just study the wrong notes? I'm sure your professor wouldn't have purposely given you wrong information._

Wally made a face as though someone had slapped the freckles right off of it. 

_Dude, trust me: I would've known if I was studying the wrong notes. I may be an idiot sometimes, but I'm not stupid._

Dick outright laughed at that, and right as he was going to write something else, Bruce and Clark walked back into his room. 

Dick waved at the two of them, and he noticed that Bruce's eyes seemed a little red, but he assumed it was from his lack of sleep. 

Clark waved back with a small grin, and whatever it was Bruce started talking about, Dick couldn't hear it. He assumed that if it was something important, he'd be filled in on it later. 

"Wally," Bruce started, getting the red head's attention. Said teen turned a little in his seat, looking up at the other. 

"I have an idea, and I need your help,"

"Oh... 'Kay?" Wally raised an eyebrow in slight confusion, "Are you gonna elaborate on what you need my help with?"

Bruce smirked a bit, liking the plan that was forming in his mind.

"Yeah," He started, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and handing it to the speedster.

"All I need is for you to get Barry on the phone for me. I need to discuss this plan I have with him."


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce slowly pulled up into the parking lot of Iron Heights, briefly glancing over at Dick – who was sitting in the passenger's seat – while he did so. He had tried to explain to the other what his plan was, but it was hard to do so in depth, since their only form of communication consisted of writing. 

He hoped that would change very soon.

Bruce could still remember the conversation he had had with Barry a few weeks ago. 

\--------------------

_"Okay, wait, let me get this straight," Barry started, his voice sounding dumbfounded, even over the phone line, "So, you want me, to set up weekly meet-ups for your son, with a criminal?"_

_"Exactly, yes. Is it really that hard to believe?"_

_"Actually, yeah, Bruce, it is kind of hard for me to believe. I mean, you're Batman, for Christ's sake, I would imagine the last thing you'd wanna do is leave your injured son alone in a room with a criminal."_

_"Dick's not going to be alone with him," Bruce said, leaning against the wall outside of Dick's hospital room. "I'm not dumb, I'll be there."_

_A deep sigh could be heard from the other end of the line, and what sounded like very rapid tapping of fingers, something the speedster tended to do when he was thinking._

_"So?" The playboy pressed after a few moments, wanting to get a for sure answer before he planned any further._

_"... I'll see what I can do, Bruce, and I'll call you back when I get a definite answer."_

\--------------------

Barry had then called him a few hours later and gave him the okay, and that was when he tried telling Dick about it. 

Now, about three weeks later, his plan was finally going into motion. 

He just hoped it went well. 

Bruce parked the sleek, black car near the front of the building, and he turned the ignition off, focusing his attention over to his son. 

Dick was pointedly looking straight ahead, through the crystal clear windshield and at the dark, dirty wall just ahead of the hood of the sleek sports car.

He wasn't exactly nervous per se, it was just that the whole ordeal was a little strange. Sure, the acrobat had faced quite the handful of villains and criminals alike, but having a normal get together with one?

It was just odd and unheard of – and if he were being honest with himself – it kind of freaked him out.

Of course, neither he nor Bruce were in their nightly get-up, but it still felt weird, just knowing that they've – possibly – fought with this criminal on more than one occasion.

Dick's thoughts were interrupted when he felt a light touch to his shoulder, and he glanced over at his father-figure, his expression unreadable. 

"You okay?" Bruce mouthed, knowing that the other could read lips as long as what you were saying was only a few words at a time.

He nodded in response, thinking that maybe he was overreacting just a little. After all, Barry did talk to the villain directly about the whole ordeal before he even tried contacting the CCPD. Obviously, this person wanted to – or at least agreed to – so surely he was just overthinking the situation. 

Bruce waited a few more moments, before he nodded as well – as if in his own confirmation – as he undid his seatbelt and unlocked the car doors. 

Dick was first to step out into the cool, crisp air, shutting the door and standing outside the building with his hands in his jacket pockets. Bruce followed suit, and before long they were inside Iron Heights. 

Bruce walked up to the front desk and signed a few papers, and before he knew it, a guard was leading them down to an interrogation room. Dick could only assume that that's where they would be having their "meeting".

He felt a growing sense of slight apprehension with every step he took, but he forced himself to keep moving. 

However silly it may have seemed, he stuck close to Bruce's side, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable now since he couldn't hear a thing. Against his better judgment, he not-so-discreetly looped his arm with one of Bruce's, his blue eyes too busy glancing around the hallways, mapping out every stain and crack in the wall while he walked. 

He was only doing it because he didn't want to get lost. 

Yeah, definitely not nervous or anything. 

Bruce didn't mind the way Dick practically clung to his side – in fact, he thought it was kind of adorable – and he continued to follow the security guard leading them to the room where the meeting would be held. 

Before much longer, they were stopped in front of a door, and Dick tried to see who they would be talking to through the one-way glass, but Bruce was blocking the way. 

"You sure you don't need anyone to supervise?" The guard asked, and Bruce gave him a polite smile and a slight nod of his head. 

"Yeah, I think we'll be okay." He replied, and Dick hesitantly unlooped his arm from the other's, taking that as a sign that they'd be entering soon. 

Bruce waited until the guard was out of eyesight before he opened the door, holding it open for his son. 

Dick slowly stepped into the small room, already finding the mysterious criminal sitting at the table set up in the middle of the room. 

He was, needless to say, a little bit shocked to find none other than Hartley Rathaway sitting there, looking over at them expectantly. 

"Finally," He started, "I've been stuck here waiting for a good fifteen minutes now."

"Sorry about that," Bruce replied, "We got a little bit off schedule."

Dick just looked between the two cluelessly, not having any idea what words they were exchanging. 

He hoped they were good words, though.

He knew that Hartley was the least violent – or at the very least – less prone to violence out of any of the villains in Central City, so he did find himself relaxing just a little bit. 

Now, that didn't mean that he _couldn't_ get violent – with him being the Pied Piper _and_ with the Rouges – but he found it better than trying to talk to, say, Captain Cold or the Joker.

Harley turned his attention towards him, and gave him a small smile.

"C'mon, sit. I won't bite."

Dick felt Bruce lightly nudging him towards one of the empty chairs across from the criminal. Getting the message, he cautiously walked over to it, slowly sitting down and turning to face the other. 

Bruce sat down beside him. 

Sitting in the middle of the table, was a couple of pencils, and two writing pads. 

Hartley gestured to one, and Dick picked one of the pads of paper up, as well as a pencil. Harley picked up the other paper and pencil. 

_Name?_ Hartley wrote on the paper, showing what he wrote to the man across from him.

_Dick Grayson_ , He wrote in response, the handwriting a bit shaky, but still legible.

_I assume you already know who I am_ , Hartley continued, a small – and surprisingly friendly – smile on his face. That made Dick relax a little bit more – and for some reason – it was also reassuring. He nodded in response to the question, not wanting to have to write everything down.

Bruce watched the whole thing like a hawk, taking mental notes of everything that would happen during their session. 

_Do you know any sign language?_ _Obviously_ _, you could just wave for 'hello' and '_ _goodbye_ _' , and just shake your head or nod for 'yes' and 'no'_. Hartley wrote once more, and when Dick nodded in confirmation, Hartley smiled. 

Bruce seemed a little bit surprised by his answer, but what did he expect? Dick was stuck in a hospital for a good week or so, so of course, he'd learn a little bit on his own, at least when Wally, Bruce, or Clark wasn't visiting. 

_That's great! What all do you know?_

At that question, he thought for a few moments, trying to remember which sign went with each word and phrase, before he raised his hands from his lap and started signing what he knew. 

He held his palm up and away from his body, before bringing it back into his torso, signing out 'welcome'. He also signed, 'sorry', 'please', and 'thanks'.

_Is that it?_ Hartley asked, and Dick nodded in confirmation. 

"Alright, well, let's get down to the basics, then."  

\--------------------

The session had lasted about an hour, but it was an hour well spent. 

Since Dick was a fast learner, he had learnt more than Hartley thought he would in one hour. 

He had learnt how to introduce himself – and a few casual conversation starters – on top of what he already knew. 

Bruce had a hand on Dick's shoulder while he talked to the criminal, who was still seated. 

"Same time next week?" The brunet asked, and the vigilante responded with a nod. 

"Yeah, that'd be great," He said, before he gave the other a tiny hint of a smile. "Thanks, Hartley. For doing this, I mean. It means a lot to the both of us."

It was rare for Bruce to outwardly thank a criminal – not that he had really done it before – but he felt as though it was needed. Obviously. 

"Ah, don't worry about it. I may be a criminal, but I'm not heartless," He replied, returning the smile. "I'll be honest, though, when Flash came to me, I was hesitant. But I'm glad I agreed to it, he's a good kid, I can tell."

Bruce gently squeezed Dick's shoulder at the mention. 

"Yeah, he's a good kid." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I have done for right now. This fic is being moved from my wattpad account, over to here. So, this is all that I had already done. I have the next two chapters planned out, it's just a matter of typing them up and getting them posted.
> 
> I'm not sure when that'll be, but I'm hoping soon.
> 
> But!! Feel free to let me know what you think so far! I love constructive criticism of any kind, and please feel free to point out any grammar/spelling mistakes, because this hasn't been proofread by anyone besides myself! :)


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